This Pen and Paper
by 1980s-popito
Summary: "And one thing I'll never regret, is loving you. I still love you, and I miss you. Happy one year anniversary, Margaret 'Peggy' Simpson Banzai."
_**This Pen and Paper**_

Buckaroo pulled out the leather bound journal from its place in his desk drawer and placed it on the top surface of his desk. He flipped through the pages and stopped at the first empty page his saw, which was right after his entry from the previous day. He picked up the same pen he'd use throughout the whole notebook from the same drawer and pressed it against the crisp, clean lined page.

 _"Dear Peggy. Today, I mourn more than any other day of the year, excluding your birthday. Today would be the one year anniversary of our marriage, but sadly, it is also the one year anniversary of your death. I would be a liar if I said that I don't miss holding you in my arms while I sleep, or talking to you, or just seeing your radiant smile in person rather than photographs. Even to just see you one more time in person would be the only thing I could ever ask for,_ " he wrote.

Buckaroo set down his pen and let out a sigh. He got up from his seat and walked over to the window behind the desk, which purposely overlooked the memorial garden for the institute; the garden was given the name _The Margaret 'Peggy' Simpson Banzai Memorial Garden_ by Professor Hikita, who had also funded and placed the garden in its place three months after her death. He had purposely placed the garden right outside of Buckaroo's window, so that whenever he needed a reminder of his deceased wife, he could just look at the window.

Buckaroo sat back down and continued to write. _"It is eight o'clock in the morning right now, and everyone is in the institute cafeteria having breakfast. I would usually be down there with them, but today I have no appetite. I know the reason why, and so does everyone else, unfortunately. As I sit here, I feel as though someone will come looking for me soon, and ask if I'm okay on the anniversary. I know exactly what my answer would be, the same exact as the one on your birthday, which is: I don't know."_

As if on cue, a knock came from the other side of the office doors. "Come in," Buckaroo called as he set down his pen and took off his glasses.

The double doors opened and three people walked in: Rawhide, Perfect Tommy and Mrs. Eliza Johnson. They all had blank and expressionless faces, and none of them said a word, but their expressions yelled what their mouths couldn't or wouldn't say.

"You know what I find fascinating?" Buckaroo questioned rhetorically as he got up from his desk and walked over to the window, looking out at the flowers spread throughout the patch of dirt, "Human expressions and emotions, especially the expression of emotions."

"You said that on her birthday, too," Mrs. Johnson said quietly.

"You didn't come down for breakfast like you usually do," Rawhide commented, "Everything alright up here?"

Buckaroo smirked a bit to himself as he thought, _I knew it._ "That answer could go two different ways, can't it? It's alright, but at the same time, it's not."

 _You'd think I'd be used to his philosophical sayings by now,_ Perfect Tommy thought, a bit confused. He decided to stay quiet for the time being.

"We all miss her too," Rawhide said gently, "She was the sweetest, most kind person in the whole institute. But I'm sorry to say that, and you know it's true, but there's nothing to bring her back. I wish we could, I really do, but we gotta play through the pain."

Buckaroo turned to the three. "I have a confession to make," he said, "I do that every day. Not a day goes by that I don't think about her, my past with her, and everything about her. I know none of us can bring her back, but that doesn't help ease anything. One thing that helps me though, is that I think about the differences we may have made in each other's lives when she was still here. Who knows what may have happened to any of us? I wouldn't have started the institute, and where would you three be? And everyone else in the institute? And how would that affect those outside of the institute that you all used to know and currently know? Everything would be different, but it may not have been good."

The three thought about what their higher up was saying. He did have a point in everything he just said. If he'd never met Peggy, Buckaroo may never have excelled in his scientific career and never started the institute. What would they all be doing then? And where would that leave those affected by the institute of the past couple of years? And their futures? And how would that have affected the world around them?

"It's impossible to even imagine how different our lives would all be," Buckaroo commented, "It's quite incredible when you think about it, really."

Mrs. Johnson looked down at the ground then back up solemnly. "You really miss her, huh?" she asked quietly and cautiously.

Buckaroo looked at the framed picture of himself with Peggy that'd been taken the day before her death and picked it up. "Every day," he answered, "But some days more than others. I don't think it'll ever hurt as much as it did that week after, if that makes any sense."

"It makes sense," Perfect Tommy confirmed seriously, "There's one thing I'm curious about, though. Kind of a personal question."

Rawhide gave his friend and colleague a scolding look. "I don't think it's the right time-" he started until he was cut off.

Buckaroo placed the frame back down gently. "It's okay," he said, "I'll answer. Go ahead, tommy."

Perfect Tommy thought for a moment, slightly feeling like a child. "Do you have any regrets about, well, any of it?"

Mrs. Johnson looked appalled by his question. "Tommy, you can't ask something like that," she reprimanded, "Not today, anyway."

Buckaroo found it slightly irritating how much the three of his friends were tip-toeing around his grief. He knew they meant well, and that they didn't want to upset him, but it was obvious how gentle and cautious they were trying to be with their words. He wished that they would just point out the elephant in the room, much like the younger man had been. It was obvious that he was grieving the anniversary of his wife's death rather than celebrating their anniversary with her, the whole institute knew that like they knew that when he mourned her on what would have been her birthday. He had never really liked pity, ever since he was a child and people had found out about his parents, but he took in a respectful and honorable way, thankful that he had people in his life who cared about him enough to even offer him pity and words of comfort.

"Mrs. Johnson, Rawhide," Buckaroo said in a calm tone, "It's a reasonable question to ask, and quite frankly, I have no problem answering it." He looked down at the picture on his desk again, then at the third man in his office. "And to answer your question, Tommy: no, I don't regret any of it. I don't regret Peggy asking me to help her find the science section of the library, or saying yes to her. I don't regret giving her a tour of the campus. I don't regret asking her on our first date, or the second, or the third, or the rest. I don't regret that first kiss. I don't regret telling her I loved her. I don't regret proposing to her. So no, Tommy, I don't regret a thing."

The three smiled in approval at his answer. "That's all that matters," Perfect Tommy smiled.

"We'll leave you alone for a little while," Rawhide said, and the three left his office, making sure to close the doors behind themselves.

Buckaroo sat back down at his desk and pick the pen back up. _"It's incredible, Peggy,_ " he wrote, _"The way you've affected so many views and lives of the people around the institute. Tommy asked me if I regretted anything while you were in my life; I told him that I didn't. While I do wish you hadn't passed, or more so murdered and taken from me and those around you who loved you, I don't regret falling for you. I don't regret that day in the library when I met you, or anything and everything else after that. And one thing I'll never regret, is loving you. I still love you, and I miss you. Happy one year anniversary, Margaret 'Peggy' Simpson Banzai."_

Buckaroo closed the journal, placed it back in the drawer along with his pen, then left the office and headed down to the institute cafeteria.


End file.
